


Friendly Fire

by Setcheti



Series: Friendly Fire [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike sensed prey sneaking through the cemetery, smelled fear when he got close...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendly Fire

Xander had barely been home half an hour – just long enough to shower away the layer of grime he’d picked up over the course of the day’s work – when he heard the basement door at the top of the stairs ease open.  He was immediately on the alert.  People coming into the basement from the house overhead was never a good, never.  Soft, hesitant footsteps began to pad down the steep stairs, a shuffle of worn slippers against the wood.  His mother. 

Okay, it could be worse…but it still wasn’t good.  Nothing to do with his parents was ever good, especially not lately.  Xander steeled himself, eyes glued to the stairs, every muscle tense.  Whatever was coming, he could handle it.  He’d always handled it, this wasn’t going to be any different. 

His mother didn’t come all the way down the stairs; she never did.  She stopped two steps up, peering into the dim room with faded eyes, stringy hair hanging around her face and not quite covering the old bruise on her cheek.  “Alexander?” 

“Yeah Mom?”  He made himself look her in the eye, made himself sit still.  “Did you need something?” 

She glanced back up the stairs, a rabbit looking over its shoulder for a wolf, and he saw that she was more nervous than usual.  “You have to go,” she almost whispered, turning back to him.  “Honey…you have to go!  He sold you, they’re coming tonight.” 

Xander bent over, moving slowly, and reached for his shoes without breaking eye contact.  “Who, Mom?  Who’s coming?” 

“He sold you to them.”  She shuddered, wrapping thin arms around herself.  “Soldiers.” 

All of the blood drained out of Xander’s face; he pulled the battered tennis shoes onto bare feet with two swift yanks and stood up.  “Why did they…why do they want me?  Did they tell him?” 

She shook her head.  “They just said they needed…someone like you.  And they said something about a ‘hyena incident’.  I didn’t understand.” 

Xander did.  He moved to the foot of the stairs, wishing he could hug her; she hadn’t let him hug her in years, ever since his father had given them both a beating for it on Xander’s thirteenth birthday.  “Go back upstairs, Mom,” he told her instead.  “Go call Aunt Alice, tell her he’s out and I left – for good this time – and you’re all alone and you’re scared, okay?  He won’t try anything if you’re on the phone with Aunt Alice.”  Alice, Jessica’s younger sister, was the only person in the family who knew what actually went on in the Harris household; she’d call the cops, which was exactly what Xander wanted. 

Because if worst came to worst, that would also be his alibi in case Tony or the Initiative killed Jessica and tried to pin it on Xander.  In fact…he darted back, grabbed his cordless phone and shoved it into his mother’s shaking hands.  “Call her now, before you even get upstairs, Mom.  He won’t hurt you if you’re on the phone with Aunt Alice.”  She just nodded, turned and started back up the stairs, dialing.  The shuffle of the faded, worn pink slippers made Xander hurt.  “I love you too, Mom,” he whispered, and then burst back into motion.  He had to get out of here, now. 

Five minutes later, Xander was out the back door, backpack slung over one shoulder, hugging the shadows while trying to get as far away from his parents’ house as possible.  He knew he couldn’t risk being seen by anyone – human, vamp, or demon.  Any encounter tonight, with anyone, could be his last.  And that included the people he’d thought were his friends. 

Because the Initiative knew about the hyena, and that meant someone had told them about the hyena.  And there were only three someones in town who could have done that, which meant that at least one of them had.  Which meant that before his dad had sold him to the Initiative…Buffy had _given_ him to them. 

Xander slid through the shadows, heading for one particular cemetery.  He had to find Spike.  Weirdly enough, the vampire was now the only person he knew he could trust.  Spike would never hand someone over to the Initiative, not after what they’d done to him; some of his nightmares had given Xander nightmares of his own, even after the vampire had moved out of the basement and into a crypt in the cemetery.  And Spike, used to being on the move in the demonic underground, would probably know how they could get away and hide, keep the soldiers from finding them.  Xander actually had something to trade him for his help; Spike couldn’t defend himself against humans, but Xander could.  Xander could go out in the daylight and run errands.  Xander could be…okay, he’d be Spike’s minion, but he’d rather be willing minion to the William the Bloody than a tortured lab rat for the twisted scientists and vicious soldiers who ran the Initiative.  

In fact, he admitted to himself while hiding behind some bushes waiting for two pedestrians who just might be soldiers to go by, he’d actually rather be flat out dead than ever set foot in those labs Spike had escaped from.  Hell, he might even rather be turned – and that might become a necessity if the Initiative tried to frame him for something, turned him into a fugitive a la America’s Most Wanted.  A human Xander might have trouble taking care of himself on the run, but things would be much simpler for a vamp.  He wondered if Spike would be able to turn him if he really wanted the vampire to… 

Xander was still thinking about different ways they could accomplish that without the chip in Spike’s head frying his brain when Spike found him – and halfway scared the hell out of him, since Xander had been looking for Spike and not finding him when Spike had suddenly appeared right beside him in his hiding place.  The blond vampire just looked at him for a moment, blank-faced, and then quickly pulled him out of one set of shadows and into a pool of deeper ones.  “What’s after you?” he hissed. 

“T-the In-nitiative,” Xander stammered, trying to get his breath back.  It wasn’t cooperating with him.  Neither was his voice, for the most part.  “F-found out ab-bout the h-hyena, c-came to m-my house.  D-d-dad…” 

Cool fingers against his lips stopped the stutter he couldn’t seem to get under control.  “Enough,” Spike murmured, not cruelly.  He wasn’t showing it, but he was badly shaken.  He’d sensed _prey_ sneaking through the cemetery, smelled fear when he got close…and then other scents had merged in and his senses had recategorized _fear-prey_ as the Slayer’s lowest minion.  The boy was obviously terrified, his eyes so wide they were more black than brown, but somehow he’d managed to make it here in spite of that without being caught. 

Spike thought again about what a wonderful childe the boy would make.  He hadn’t thought much of his sire’s ‘gift’ when it had been given to him several years ago, but over time he’d realized why the bloody pouf had been so eager to get rid of the boy:  Xander was competition, and even with a cursed broody soul attached a master vampire like Angelus simply couldn’t tolerate being upstaged by a minion.  Which was what the Slayer’s ‘Scoobies’ were to her, of course.  There was a reason why the Chosen One was supposed to work alone except for her Watcher.  

Slayers had many traits in common with vampires, sharing part of the demon spirit nature as they did, and those traits weren’t exactly the best ones.  Slayers were selfish, short-sighted, and endlessly superior.  Anyone drawn into their circle, sometimes even their Watcher if that individual was weak, became the living equivalent of a vampiric minion, expected to serve, to obey, and to sacrifice everything at the Slayer’s whim. 

Like Xander had.  And Willow, and Rupert Giles.  Even Angel had fallen prey to it.  And Spike knew that he was perilously close himself, being dependant for his survival on the Slayer’s good will because of the damned chip the Initiative had put in his head.  The same Initiative that was now after Xander with no doubt even more horrible ‘experiments’ in mind to try on him, very likely because the Slayer no longer had a use for the boy – or had gotten pissed at him – and had gifted him to them. 

Spike held back a growl at that thought.  Xander wasn’t hers to give away, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.  And to that end…they had to get out of here, out of the cemetery, and fast.  The soldiers might not look for the boy here first, but the Slayer just might – and Spike knew she was out patrolling tonight.  He met Xander’s wide dark eyes and held them.  “Pet, we’re gettin’ out of here, and we’ve got to be bloody fast.  I’ve got a bit of this and that I need to pull out of the crypt, and then we’ll use the tunnels to duck out of the Slayer’s hunting ground, all right?”  Xander nodded, and Spike grabbed his hand and started leading him through the safest shadows toward the dubious temporary protection of the crypt. 

Ten minutes saw them in the crypt, and five more saw them out of it and into the tunnels that honeycombed the underside of Sunnydale.  Spike marveled at the trust Xander was placing in him.  The tunnels were pitch black, and they couldn’t risk a flashlight even if they’d had one, so the boy was walking blind with only Spike’s hand in his to guide him while the vampire’s night vision picked out their path and watched for company.  Spike was just hoping, nearly praying, that the soldiers hadn’t found the tunnel system yet, or at least that they weren’t using it or the sewers tonight.    

The tunnels were clear of soldiers and demons, but they had two close calls in the sewer before Spike urged Xander toward a ladder under a manhole cover.  “Up, pet,” he urged.  “We need to go see the Watcher…” 

“No!”  Xander’s reaction was immediate and violent; he yanked back away from the ladder and nearly out of the vampire’s grip, and the fear smell coming from him intensified almost unbearably.  Spike could see betrayal dawning in his face through the veil of darkness.  “N-not you…” 

“No, you know I wouldn’t – not to those bloody soldier bastards, pet, not even if you were the bloody pouf.”  Spike used the hold he already had to draw the boy in, wrapping his arms around him, smothering the fear with cool strength.  “Think, pet,” he whispered.  “Rupert might not know, so we have to sound him out, right?  ‘Cause they’ll come for him next if he’s not in on it.  Don’t want that on our conscience, do we?” 

Tremors became a shiver, then melted into a tremble.  “You h-have a c-conscience?” was whispered softly into Spike’s chest. 

The vampire smiled.  “Yeah.  Everything wot thinks ‘s got a conscience, pet – just not all the same kind, or work the same way.”  He moved the boy away from him, gently, without entirely letting go.  “Up the ladder now, I’ll be right behind you.  We need to get to the Watcher’s flat before someone else can get there first.” 

Xander nodded, shuddered again, and went up the ladder.  He eased the manhole cover over to the side, peered up over the edge of the hole for a minute, and then he was pulling himself out and reaching a hand back for Spike – who took it and smiled a thank you even though he hadn’t needed any help.  Then the two of them slipped back into the shadows and cautiously made their way through the block and a half that stood between them and Rupert Giles’ apartment building. 

Getting in was easy, in spite of the secure entrance, and they saw no one in the corridors as they made their way to the upper floor, using the stairs just in case.  Several feet from Giles’ apartment door, however, Spike stopped and pulled Xander to a halt behind him.  “Wait,” he hissed, and then listened.  After a moment he relaxed.  “It’s just him, no one else.  He’s watching the telly.” 

Xander relaxed ever so slightly.  “We c-can’t stay long, they’ll c-come here.” 

“I know – this won’t take long, I promise.”  Spike looked back at him, a serious expression on his face.  “I won’t let them get you, pet, you’ve got my word on that.  Whatever it takes, they won’t get their filthy hands on you, all right?” 

He knew he’d guessed correctly when the boy relaxed even more, and the hand that touched his arm squeezed briefly.  “Whatever it t-takes,” Xander replied, a harsh intensity to the words.  He took a deep breath.  “Let’s g-get this over w-with.  I want to g-get out of here.” 

“You and me both.”  Spike walked up to the Watcher’s door and knocked twice, a businesslike rap instead of his usual bang.  He heard a sigh from the room inside, followed by a rustle of movement and tired feet in socks sliding along the smooth floor.  Spike waited until he saw the change in light that meant the peephole was being used.  “Oy, Watcher, let me in already,” he demanded just loudly enough to be heard through the door.  “Got summat important to talk to you about.  You can watch the bleedin’ telly later.” 

There was the faint sound of an annoyed huff from inside the apartment, but then a moment later a bolt slid back and the door opened.  The watcher looked more than irritated.  “Spike, I…”  Then he saw the vampire’s companion and pushed aside whatever he’d been about to say.  “Xander, what are you…” 

“We’re comin’ in,” Spike interrupted him and pushed inside, dragging a reluctant Xander with him and then shutting – and bolting – the door behind them while a stunned Giles watched.  “Has the Slayer called you tonight?” 

“No, she…I say, do you think something has happened to her?” 

“I bloody well wish,” the vampire snarled.  “So she hasn’t called.  Has Red, or any of those Initiative bastards?” 

Giles had been in the process of taking offence at his unwelcome houseguest’s ‘wish’, but something stopped him.  He wasn’t as unobservant as some thought him to be, or as quick to jump to conclusions.  “What’s happened?” 

Spike opened his mouth, but Xander beat him to it.  “Buffy t-told the soldiers ab-bout the hyena.” 

The Watcher frowned.  “Well, she may have told Riley the story, but I hardly think anything too terrible will come of it…” 

This time it was Spike who spoke.  “Nothin’ too terrible, no – except for the soldier boys showin’ up at the whelp’s house wantin’ him, that is.  Or maybe the whelp’s git of a father sellin’ him to them.” 

Giles looked like he didn’t want to believe that, and Xander didn’t quite hide behind Spike.  “My m-mother t-t-told me.  She warned me to g-g-get out before they c-came b-back.” 

Giles saw something flicker in the vampire’s eyes, and then Spike turned, keeping himself obliquely between the boy and the Watcher.  “Pet, go use the washroom.  We’re goin’ in five minutes, might not have time to stop again.”  Xander hesitated, and the vampire smiled in a nasty way.  “Wouldn’t have taken you for the sort to like it outside in the bushes, whelp.”  Then his expression sobered.  “I won’t leave without you, you’ve got my word – an’ I don’t break that, do I?  Now get goin’, every minute we stand here’s another minute’s head start on them we’ve lost.” 

Xander nodded, then slipped around him and darted through the room to Giles’ bathroom.  The Watcher took a deep breath, feeling something tighten inside his chest.  “You’re sure?” he asked. 

“Whelp came lookin’ for me in the cemetery.  He’s bloody lucky it was me that found him first, and not the Slayer.”  The scarred eyebrow arched.  “She’s out patrollin’ tonight, you know.  Still sure she hasn’t called?” 

The Watcher shook his head.  “No, not in…not in quite a while.” 

The eyebrow stayed up.  “What about Red?” 

“No.  But if Buffy told them about Xander…” 

“She wasn’t tellin’ them, she was givin’ him to them,” Spike informed him sharply.  “And she doesn’t have the right.  But I guess you want to find out if Red’s in on it too, is that it?” 

“We have to.”  Giles recovered part of his self possession.  “We can’t leave her here…” 

He suddenly had a vampire right in the middle of his personal space.  “We can and we will if she’s in on it, Watcher,” Spike growled.  “I won’t risk the boy’s life for that bint if she brought the trouble on herself.”  One corner of his lip turned up, a wolf’s snarl even without the fangs.  “I haven’t forgot what happened because of me and my stupid spell to get my Dark Princess back, you know.  Red begged the boy to kiss her, ‘cause she thought they were goin’ to die.  But she sort of seemed to forget that when they got caught.  You all put it all on him, no blame for poor little Red except from her wolf-boy – and she got him back by puttin’ out.” 

Giles’ eyes widened.  “How did you…” 

“Got my ways.  Didn’t like it – _you_ should have known better.”  Spike took a deliberate step back.  “Grab a bag first, then call Red.  If she’s part of it, we won’t have time to do anything but run.” 

“Right.”  He was, and Giles knew it.  The Watcher had practice throwing an emergency kit together, practice gained under far more dire circumstances than the current ones, and he quickly had a knapsack and bedroll put together for himself and an extra bedroll for Xander, who had come out of the bathroom even more nervous than he’d gone in.  Giles set him to repacking his own bag so it wouldn’t make noise and told Spike to fill in whatever the boy was missing from the supplies there in the house, and then he went to the phone.  Putting his hand on the receiver, he took one deep breath, then another, plotting out the way he wanted the conversation to go, and what he would say if it didn’t. 

Willow answered on the third ring, out of breath – from laughing, by the sound of it.  “Willow Rosenberg’s room!” 

Giles put on his polite, irritated mask.  “Willow, is Xander there, by any chance?” 

“No, why would he…”  Giles could almost hear the thought that stopped her words, and his heart sank.  No, not Willow, not the boy’s closest friend.  “Oh wait, did he call you?” 

“Yes.  He was quite agitated, something about soldiers coming after him.”  Giles cleared his throat, adopted his most disapproving voice.  “This had best not be one of yours and Buffy’s practical jokes on the boy, Willow.  I would be extremely displeased to have my evening interrupted over a prank – especially one in such poor taste as this.” 

He heard her sigh.  “No, it’s not a prank.  I’m sorry, Giles, we should have told you, but Buffy…well, she wasn’t sure you’d understand because you haven’t been around Xander much lately.  He hasn’t been acting like himself.  So she talked to Dr. Walsh about him, and Dr. Walsh thinks they can help him, but he’s been really aggressive and kind of paranoid lately and it’s probably because of something left over from the hyena and they don’t want him to hurt anyone or hurt himself, so Riley and some of the guys are going to get him and bring him in.”  She sucked in a breath.  “It’s for the best, Giles – the best for Xander.  They’ll help him, they even said they’d train him once he’s better!  He’s going to love it, he always did like the guns and explosives and things, and he always wants to help fight…” 

Giles interrupted the babble with a sigh of his own.  “Yes, Willow, I know.  But the two of you really shouldn’t have…ah well, I guess there’s no help for it now, but from the sound of it your ‘plan’ has him thinking he’s running for his life.”  Another sigh, this time sounding put-upon.  “I believe he may be headed for the bus station, I should probably go down there and see if I can keep him calm until Riley and Buffy can catch up with him.  If I’d been told what you were up to, I could have had him come here, you know.” 

“I’m sorry, Giles.”  He thought she almost meant it, too.  “I’d say that next time we’ll tell you, but there probably won’t be a next time so there won’t be anything to tell.  I’ll call Buffy on her cell phone and tell her where to tell Riley to go look.” 

“Very well – and tell them I’ll see them there, one way or the other.  If Xander isn’t at the station, we can split up from there to look for him.” 

“Okay, Giles,” Willow agreed, sounding much subdued.  “Bye.” 

The Watcher hung up the phone almost gingerly and stared at it for a full minute before turning to face his two unexpected guests.  “We should go immediately,” he told them, taking note of but not commenting on the fact that Xander looked like he was ready to bolt any second.  “How were you planning on getting out of town?  We could take my car…” 

“Not a good idea, Watcher.”  The vampire shook his head.  “They know yours, and I think they might know mine too.  We’re on foot and findin’ a place to hole up for right now.” 

Within minutes they were down the back stairs of Giles’ building, the former Watcher bringing up the rear while Spike held Xander’s hand in his and led them into the relative safety of the darkness.  They would not be going back into the sewers, because now Spike knew that the sewers and possibly the tunnels that connected to them had been compromised.  They would also not be heading west, because that would eventually lead them to the ocean and they’d be trapped.  Ditto for heading south, which would lead them across five cemeteries and trap them against the cliffs.  East was the bus station, not to mention L.A.; the soldiers were already expecting Xander to head in that direction, and Buffy would jump to the conclusion that the boy was planning to run to Angel in search of sanctuary. 

So they were heading north, to the mountains.  Eventually through the mountains and straight out of the state, if Spike had anything to say about it.  He could get the Watcher back to Merry Olde England once they were well away – Rupert might have told them where to stick it, the Council gits might have fired him, but there was no bloody way they would leave even an ex-Watcher to be picked up by the U.S. military for interrogation.  They valued their secrets more than that.  So Rupert Giles would be on a plane flying home, and Spike would be taking Xander on with him. 

In fact, Spike expected that he and the boy would be off and running again before Rupert was off the phone booking his flight.  Because the Council would be every bit as interested in the bloody hyena as the Initiative was, and they might just have an interest in a chipped vampire as well.  The vampire was not about to trade one pack of torturers for another, no matter what accent they spoke with.  And he was not giving Xander up to anyone, for any reason. 

Of course, they would not be reaching the mountains tonight – probably not for a couple of days, in fact.  But Spike knew of a place where they could hide away for the day with no chance of being found by soldiers or slayers or anyone else.  He also knew the best ways to go in order to leave no trace of their passing, no sign or scent that even a bloodhound could follow.  And the Slayer was far less sensitive to her environment than a hunting hound. 

It was about an hour before dawn when Spike led his charges into the dark mouth of a rocky cave miles into the desert wilds north of Sunnydale.  He used his vampiric night vision again, sparing their flashlights until they’d squeezed their way into a small roundish cavern deep underground.  He squeezed Xander’s hand reassuringly where the boy had a death grip on his arm.  “It’s a safe place to spend the day, pet.” 

Xander couldn’t hold back a shudder as he looked back at the tiny entrance they’d come in through.  “If they f-find us, we’ll be t-trapped.” 

Spike squeezed again.  “They can’t find us.  These rocks,” he waved at the surrounding walls of rough stone, “have a high magnetic content, they do.  And I covered our tracks all the way here – not that those useless wankers will think to check in this direction for a day or so more.  They’ll likely be expectin’ you to head for the Pouf in L.A.” 

The boy shook his head.  “Angel hates me.  He’d probably g-give me to them.” 

“He won’t get the chance now.”  The vampire didn’t actually know what his grandsire would do if soldiers showed up on his doorstep hunting the boy, but he saw no need to discuss it.  The Initiative or the Slayer or both were likely to show up at Angel’s place, even if it was only to ask him to help them hunt; but even if he were inclined to help, Angel didn’t know about the caves.  Spike also took consolation from the fact that none of the people searching for them would expect Xander to be with him, and that the Watcher would be assumed to have been eaten by something in Sunnydale before anyone thought of another explanation for his disappearance.  They were all three safe, for the time being.  “You need to eat a little, then we’re all goin’ to sleep until sunset,” the vampire told his two human companions.  “Then we’ll be on our way.” 

Giles gave him a look.  “And what are you planning to eat, hmm?” 

Spike shrugged.  “Already had my dinner, before the whelp came along lookin’ for me.  I’m good for a bit yet, day or so at least.”  It was true, he had already found a meal for himself earlier in the evening, although he wasn’t going to tell them what it was or where he’d gotten it.  He’d be able to find more of the same once they were back near civilization again, he wasn’t worried about that.  Xander, though… “Get somethin’ out of your bag and eat it, pet,” he ordered the boy gently.  “We need to get these torches shut off, we do.  I’ll lay out your blanket, make a nice cozy little bed for you right here between me and Rupert.” 

The fact that the boy did as he was told without so much as a quip about not fancying the two of them that way worried Spike all throughout the long, dark day.

 

Rupert Giles sat in his office, waiting for the mail…and brooding. 

It had been six months, almost seven, since he’d fled Sunnydale in the company of a traumatized boy and a biteless vampire.  They’d spent the first night – or rather, day, since they’d been stuck with vampire hours – sleeping in a small cavern that he’d realized later was in actuality an abandoned mineshaft.  The following night they’d moved on at a punishing pace, but Rupert hadn’t complained; he’d known why the vampire was pushing them to move so quickly, to cover so much ground.  He’d known that the same worried, near-frantic look in Spike’s eyes had also been in his own. 

They’d hit the fringes of civilization the next night, Rupert had called the Council and arranged an emergency extraction from the country…and when he’d turned around, Spike and Xander had been gone.  He’d rather expected that, of course.  What he hadn’t expected was the letter he’d received in London a month later.  From Spike. 

Spike and Xander were someplace in Europe, Rupert didn’t know where and he wasn’t going to look.  He’d continued to receive letters from the vampire each month, short but elegantly penned missives that told him how the boy was doing and what Spike thought about it.  Wherever they were, they were settled and leading what sounded to be a rather uneventful and quiet life – quiet for Xander’s sake, Rupert knew, and found himself with a certain amount of admiration for the vampire who had seen fit to curb his natural appetites for the sake of his human companion.  Especially as said vampire was almost certainly rid of the chip that had kept him from harming humans, something Rupert had deduced after one letter mentioned that Spike had put his mark on Xander to protect him from other demons.  It didn’t matter, though; what mattered to Rupert was that Xander was safe. 

He certainly hadn’t managed to keep the boy safe himself.  Some days that thought haunted him, especially in the wake of one of Spike’s letters.  Xander was slowly recovering from the trauma induced by the round of vicious betrayals that had made their flight from Sunnydale a necessity…but he was not the same young man he had been before that night.  According to Spike, Xander was nervous, reclusive, and often silent in spite of the fact that his frightened stutter had gradually faded and disappeared.  Rupert had cried in spite of himself when one letter reported that Xander had laughed out loud for the first time since the two of them had arrived at wherever they were; he could remember a time when the boy’s frequent laughter had inspired sharp demands for seriousness from him in his capacity as Buffy’s Watcher, demands which to his irritation at that time had been mostly ignored. 

Knowing that his incompetence had lent a hand to silencing that bubbling good cheer for three long months was a pain Rupert had carried with him ever since.  And that pain had finally settled his conflicting feelings toward his former charge, Buffy, the Slayer. 

Today, if Spike’s letter came, Rupert was going to pen a response for the first time, and send it with the help of a small locator spell.  He was in fact hoping the vampire’s letter came today, because today was special and he felt it would be fitting.  Not to mention that he hoped the news he had to share might be in some way reassuring to the still-fearful Xander, an atonement of sorts for Rupert’s own part in bringing about that fear, or at least for doing nothing to prevent the circumstances which had instilled it. 

Because today, just that morning in fact, the Council wetworks team had reached Sunnydale.  And by tonight, a new Slayer would be called. 

Rupert sat quietly, brooding, and waited for the mail.  With a small, satisfied smile on his face. 


End file.
